Growing up reading comics, I was always pulled by Superheroes. Men who were faster than speeding bullets, able to swing from webs, champions of the oppressed. I especially liked the Superhumans, who could grow blades from their knuckles or move busses with a flick of their wrist, people who could do things that most people could not. I would close my eyes and try to move the leaf in front of me, blow on it, then open them and pretend I moved it with my mind. However, as I grew up, I started identifying myself with Batman comics. The Sherlock Holmes of Superheroes, battling both the villains in front of him and the demons within him. Early on, he started inserting himself into me and my brothers lives. I have this vivid memory of my brother at four years old, in the bathtub, bathing in a pool of anger. Clenching his fists in his tightly crossed arms, grinding teeth, muttering to himself under his breath. Reminding himself, like a mantra, “Batman is a Superhero, Batman is a Superhero.” I remember, it came from an argument he and my cousins had, in which they pointed out, “He is just a rich guy who puts on Spandex at night.” I am on the horizon of Nineteen, now, and I still haven’t forgotten that argument.
Thursday night, I took my brother to the marathon of Chris Nolan’s Batman films, including his newest, The Dark Knight Rises. Nine hours, cold in a theater, but not caring, awed by the flickering monolithic screen towering in front of us. I looked around me to see the Batman fans. A man dressed in a hand-made riddler costume. Sharpie drawn question marks on a green sweatshirt and a purple painted, felt bowler hat. All different kinds of people, with different stories, but the same love for that Caped Crusader. Just one man dressed as Batman stands out in the crowd of normal people. All of us worshipping him, like some kind of idyllic god, walking among his bowing apostles. I looked over at my brother and my friends around me, ogling the Batman on the screen, flying around the lit, dark sky, and I thought to myself, this is what it truly means to go to the movies. Basking in a glow everyone gave off, this sense of unity, different people with the same love for a good story.
Meanwhile, at 12:05, in Aurora, Colorado, the premier of The Dark Knight Rises was interrupted by violence and chaos. A lone man, hurling smoke bombs, dawning a gas mask, with bright red hair, shooting at people scrambling in the haze. Twelve people lost their lives in that theater. An awful horror that will never be forgotten.
Lately, in our society we have been tormented with unthinkable violence. Within two years we have endured two mass killings, which lay as stains in our minds. Forced to stare at the face of fear and hate as its picture would be paraded in the nightly news. We ask ourselves questions, like, why did he kill those people? Maybe he was a Nihilist, condemning the fate of the people to the barrel of his gun. Maybe he felt invisible and this was the only way to be seen. The why doesn’t matter, it never will. He will still be that masked man who bought a lot of guns and killed a dozen people. I realize, we Kill because we Hate, we Hate because we Fear, and we Fear because we dont understand. When won’t we stand in the darkness and not think we are seeing shadows within it? We psychoanalyze them, we pin the reasons on the mother or the father or experiences in the past. But, we often forget to see the big picture, we forget this unfortunate truth, this cycle of violence.
The evening after the shooting, within the thunderous bellows above me I asked myself, “What is true Justice?” This questions plagued my thoughts the most. I live in Tucson, Arizona. Second highest Firearm State in the country. We were also, incidentally victim to the Gabriella Giffords shooting in January, which killed six people. Weeks after, our governor, Jan Brewer, passed a bill, making it legal to carry guns into government buildings, public buildings and universities. Is this justice or is it salt in the knees of the Tucsonan’s? Lost, on that cold evening, I sat in the rain, clenching my fists, repeating that mantra to myself, “Batman is a Superhero, Batman is a Superhero.” Hoping the symbol would stand for something more than just the Batman Massacre. Reminding myself that he is more than that Rich Boy in a penthouse, more than that awful night in Aurora. I sat, wishing he was real, so he could have stopped it all from happening. But, that is why they invented Superheroes, to lead people out of the darkness, to be a symbol of hope in times where it is lacking. To keep the balance between Good and Evil. Where the Superhero fights the Evil and all is safe until the next villain rears his face around the bricked corner. But, the hero strives on. But, just as we ask, ‘what makes us human?’ ‘What makes us Super?’ Is it Superpowers? Is it a large flowing cape, or, is it the Power to unbiasedly see the positive outcome and strive for that justice, what ever the cost?
Chris Nolan wrote the Dark Knight Trilogy to be as real and believable as possible. He wanted to make a world where the city was corrupt enough to be true, the threat could be real, and you felt for that city, because you made it your own. The hero was a regular person, who was fallible and was conflicted with anger and constantly questioned what the truth behind justice really was. However, It seemed like my cousins were right all those years ago, Batman is Not a Superhero. He doesn’t have powers or anything that makes him different from other people. What makes him different is his perseverance to help his people. I think what Nolan was trying to do, was to show us that the most unlikely person, could stand up and become a hero. He isn’t a Superhero, he is the Hero that proves to us that even a rich guy in Spandex can help people. Showing that despite how much or how little money we have, we have the power to rise up and fight for what we believe in. That’s the hero we need right now.
But, this begs the question, do we need Superheroes, when we have guns? When we have policemen who try and work so hard to keep the peace? How can we be Super without having gamma radiation or being bitten by radioactive insects? Although, philosophers like Nietzsche, believed in a great Übermench (Superman) that would come and set us free, that is not our reality right now. And we cannot wait for one to come along. We are living in desperate times. Times with disgruntled, misunderstood power, which I believe will only lead to more violence. We cannot limit ourselves on what we can do, what we can become, because, We Can Be Super. Within that darkness, there is still light. I’ve seen it. During those two catastrophes, through the calamity and the chaos, certain people became Super. For instance, in the Tucson shooting, a Husband laid down his life and shielded his wife from the flying bullets, a Seventy-Four year old man wrestled the Gunman to the ground. In the Aurora shooting, a Seventeen year old boy made it priority to help a mother and her children get through the stampeding people, getting shot in the leg himself.
What makes us Super is not Superpowers, or, our guns, our political prowess. It is our choices that we make, that makes us Super. Our selflessness to help the people around us. Our actions that may stop people from shooting up a Movie Theater or a Safeway. Our choices that help these disturbed people, before handing them a gun. I believe we can all become Super, as a Nation, as a Country. But, can we accept that cowl when given to us? Can we rise to the occasion? I believe we can. We can pick up our sore body and rise with the sun to a new, better day.
Because as Thomas Wayne (Batman’s Father) said to a young Bruce, “Why Do We Fall. . . ? So We Can Learn To Get Back Up.”
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